


How Awful Goodness Is

by sleipnirismybaby



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hair-pulling, Light Angst, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleipnirismybaby/pseuds/sleipnirismybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus isn’t sure why he’s even here, loitering outside Alexa—Alec’s room just a few hours before the nephilim’s wedding. After his last bid for Alec’s affections, Magnus had sworn to end these feelings. His heart could only beat so fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Awful Goodness Is

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Smut and Suffering was an offered title for this as well. The actual title was inspired by Magnus’s talk with Luke in the City of Heavenly Fire about Alec. As it is, Episode 12 will probably fuck with the time line I plotted, but I tried my best. My beta was myenemyisanotion on tumblr, the blessed malec fan that she is, who pushed me to write this thing and introduced me to this fandom to begin with.

Magnus isn’t sure why he’s even here, loitering outside Alexa—Alec’s room just a few hours before the nephilim’s wedding. After his last bid for Alec’s affections, Magnus had sworn to end these feelings. His heart could only beat so fast. He wavers for a moment, hand poised to knock, when the door is pulled open abruptly. Magnus’s heart lurches in his chest at the first sight of Alec’s flushed cheeks and frantic expression, and he can’t help the brief flicker of his eyes down the white shirt, and black pants. It only lasts a moment, then Magnus jerks his eyes up. He pulls back his hand from where it hovers just a few inches from Alec’s chest. The view is only mildly better because Alec’s face is just as distracting as the rest of him.

“Whaa, Magnus? Why are you-?” Alec yelps, jerking backwards in the doorway. Magnus can’t help the way his eyes take Alec in yet again, from the shine of his new shoes to his white shirt opened over the hollow of his throat. Despite the newness of his clothes, Alec looks utterly disheveled with his hair a mess, and a blush on his cheeks. His long, graceful fingers are clenched around his black bowtie, crumpling the fabric. Magnus feels helpless in the face of his own beating heart, and the tips of his fingers tingle with rampant desire to run through that soft, ruffled hair.

He clenches his hands, “I only need a moment, Alec,” the warlock says. 

Alec’s soft, open mouth tightens as he glances anxiously up and down the deserted hallway. All the other damned Nephilim are preoccupied with the wedding, but Magnus knows now how Alec’s world balances on the precipice of a sword’s edge. Magnus aches for him, for the lonely, bitter life that awaits Alec and Lydia. It’s no way to live, rejecting the essence of yourself. Magnus would know.

Alec looks at him, hesitation clear on his face for just a moment, then he steps back and gestures for Magnus to come inside. Crossing the threshold of the room should be a momentous moment, a sign that Alec trusts him, but Magnus just feels cold and numb, shaky with nerves and nausea.

The silence is deafening, Magnus stands like a statue, his usual graceful nonchalance banished with the sickening roiling in the pit of his stomach. He should have never come, should have shut the door in Isabelle’s face that morning when she showed up at his door with an invitation to this beautiful, frightening boy’s wedding. But he had always been weak, always reached out again and again to the flame even after being burned.

“You’re not ready,” he finally says, gesturing woodenly at the open collar and the bowtie which is hopelessly wrinkled from its time clenched in Alec’s fist. Alec blushes, the light pinkening of his cheeks utterly charming. But Magnus is not charmed. He’s not.

“I don’t know how,” Alec mutters. “My mom always helped when I had to wear a tie, or Isabelle. I was just going to find her before…” He shuffles his feet and looks away from Magnus to the wall, as though nothing is as fascinating as the macabre stain-glass windows of dead ancestors.

Magnus drags up his bravado from the depths of hell where it had crawled and saunters forward, a guarded smirk twisting the corner of his lips. “Well, let me do the honors this time. A last hurrah if you will.” The flurried bow punctuates his offer before he straightens and holds out his silver ringed hand. 

Alec’s eyes snap to his face, all amber gold in the light, and that soft pink mouth falls open with his next breath. “Magnus,” he says, “why are you here, really?”

Magnus curls in his fingers, already pulling back. This was a mistake, coming here, waiting outside Alec’s door like a beaten dog desperate for a few more words, a single touch.

With a jolt, Alec’s hands dart forward, grabbing his own with a gentle force. The bowtie is put in his hands, but Magnus can only focus on the roughly callused feeling of Alec’s hand holding his own. It’s only for a moment, but Magnus relishes the feeling before Alec pulls away.

“I never said no, but really Magnus why are you here? And how?” Alec’s brow furrowed. “Who let you into the Institute?”

Magnus can’t help but laugh. “Your sister of course, delightful Isabelle.” The bow tie is hopelessly crumpled, but a quick snap of the fabric, an application of magic, and it was perfect again. Alec’s flummoxed expression, wide eyes and open mouth, was as compelling as it always was, but Magnus firmly reminds himself that he is done and over with this frustrating boy.

The warlock comes in closer, the buttons of his coat brushing against the white of Alec’s neatly pressed shirt. _What to say, what to say_ , Magnus thinks. Because what is he really here for? His words haven’t moved Alec, Alec’s own feelings haven’t moved Alec. Nothing but duty and family seems to motivate the self-sacrificing shadowhunter that has captured Magnus’s attention so fully.

“Why would Isabelle—” Alec begins to say, before Magnus interrupts.

“A kiss, Alec,” Magnus says. 

His carefully color coordinated sparkly pink nails flip up the starched collar of Alec’s shirt, and a wandering thumb brushes over the dip of Alec’s collarbone. He fastens the top two buttons and flings the bow tie around Alec’s throat like a lasso. Magnus wants to drag him in, pull him down and kiss him before his wife ever gets to, before he loses his chance forever. The bow tie slips through his fingers as he tightens it and smooths down the collar of the shirt. The gold brocaded jacket is carefully laid over the back of Alec’s desk chair, Magnus snaps it into his fingers and holds it out to Alec. Alec slowly pulls it on, and Magnus takes a step back to fully appreciate the effect. Utterly stunning, delectable and unobtainable, and everything Magnus desperately wants.

“Just one kiss, if you’ll give it to me. To finish this, so I can go to your wedding and feel like I’m not watching an honorable man condemn himself without ever having felt passion.”

Magnus looks up into those eyes, reads the emotions that lay on that face like an open book. There is surprise, wonder, hesitation, and resolve. Magnus looks away, and makes for the door. In a few seconds he has the door open, but it slams shut in his face and Magnus jerks around. Alec’s body hems him against the door, keeps him there with the sheer force of surprise and the punch drunkenness of lust.

“Yes, one kiss,” Alec says. His body is trembling, his braced arms barely capable of holding himself away from Magnus’s body. The arms are dropped, but the trembling doesn’t stop.

 _There is fear here_ , Magnus thinks, fear and astonishment as though Alec can’t believe what he’s said.

“Just one kiss,” Magnus agrees. He will make it the best angel-damned kiss the boy ever has for the rest of his mortal life.

But Alec is the one who moves, his eyes dropping down to looks at Magnus’s mouth. Now it’s Magnus turn to pull back, wary and uncertain, until his back hits the door and he has nowhere to go. The first brush of Alec’s lips is off center, barely a whisper against the corner of Magnus’s mouth. His heart feels fit to burst, thrumming in chest as Magnus lets his mouth fall open and turns his head to meet those lips.

With deliberate care Magnus laces his arms around broad shoulders, cupping one hand on the back of the nephilim’s neck, and twisting the other into ruffled strands of soft hair. Everything is done slowly and gently, every move telegraphed beforehand as though Alec is a spooked horse to be gentled. Magnus can’t risk him bolting. The soft, gentle brush of their lips is enough, has to be enough to sit through the damned wedding without losing his fucking mind.

He’s expecting Alec to pull back at any moment, to drag Magnus’s hands off his shoulders and push him out the door, but suddenly Alec makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat, guttural and harsh. The firm push of Alec’s tongue causes Magnus to obligingly open his mouth, the kiss turning hot and wet as Alec firmly presses Magnus against the door. Both of the callous roughed hands grasp Magnus at the waist before on slides to the small of the warlock’s back and the other slips up the rough fabric of the jacket to press between his shoulder blades.

Magnus’s head feels like it’s spinning out of control and he tightens his fingers on Alec’s neck and head, accidently pulling desperately at Alec’s silky hair. He doesn’t expect the moan that Alec gasps into his mouth or the jerk of his hips into Magnus’s belly.

 _Oh_ , Magnus thinks, stunned by the heavy press of Alec’s erection against his belly. _Holy shit_.

“Magnus,” Alec groans against his lips, breathing heavily like he’s gone ten rounds with a demon. His eyes are bright and drag Magnus’s attention away from the erection against his stomach to the serious issue of whether Magnus should be the greater person and end this before it goes too far.

Alec pulls back, and Magnus feels bereft, run through with regret and anger as his arms slip from around those firm shoulders. At himself for asking for the damned kiss, at Alec for saying yes, at Alec for getting married, at the loathsome society of shadowhunters that condemned any relationship that didn’t produce bouncing, drooling spawns to continue the grand work of killing demons and downworlders.

But then Alec pulls off his golden jacket and throws it behind him where it lands on the floor. He reaches forward to unbuttons Magnus’s jacket with eager, fumbling fingers.

”Alec?” Magnus asks, voice lilting dangerously on the edge of a squeak. Half the reason he’s in love with this blasted boy is that he is constantly surprised by him, but this is not how he expected his request to go.

The jacket is stripped off Magnus’s body without any delay, and his shirt follows it to the floor while Magnus stands there like a malleable lump. Magnus isn’t sure how this is happening, but he’s pretty sure he’s either dreaming or hallucinating.

 _Did Ragnor spike my tea again_ , Magnus thinks hysterically as his belt is undone and slips rhythmically from each loop of his pants. Alec tosses it aside and starts on the button and zipper of his pants, leaning forward to crush Magnus against the wooden door. His nipples pebble in the cool air of the room, and Magnus can’t help but moan as Alec leans in to kiss along the length of the warlock’s neck.

Magnus almost doesn’t say anything, but as his pants sag on his hips, he musters himself and reaches shaking hands down to grab at Alec’s wrists, “Wait, what’s going on Alec?” he gasps as Alec’s teeth catch on the curve of his neck. It’s almost as distracting as the way Alec’s hands are brushing lightly against the purple silk covering his dick. Every touch is almost enough to ruin him.

Alec’s lips trail up the sensitive skin of his neck before the Nephilim begs in a husky voice. “Let me Magnus, please. I want you,” the fingers of those strong hands deliberately flex and catch at the head of Magnus’s cock.

The feeling shudders up Magnus’s spine, and he feels his will crack. Alec’s teeth catch on the lobe of his ear, and that’s it. He lets his hands fall away and reaches up to put his hands on Alec’s neck and in his hair.

“Okay, kiss me again,” Magnus whispers, turning his head to kiss the flushed tip of Alec’s ear.

Alec rears back, face flushed and lips pink and wet. Magnus tightens his grip on Alec’s hair and pulls him into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Alec groans into his mouth, slipping his tongue out to slide along the line of Magnus’s teeth and into his mouth.

One of the nephilim’s hands clenches at Magnus’s waist and slips into the waistband of his boxers, following the soft skin to the crease of his ass. The middle finger slides down to press lightly at the skin of Magnus’s entrance. It rests there, and Alec draws back from their kiss with a shuddering breath. Magnus resists the urge to drag him back in by his hair.

“Can you magic something?” Alec gasps.

It takes a moment for Magnus to react because he’s too caught up in admiring the swollen redness of Alec’s lips, and the way his pupils are blown so wide that there is only a sliver of light hazel visible. But once the question registers it takes only a moment to release Alec’s next and snap his expensive lube from the side drawer of his home. He presents it to Alec with a pleased flourish, watching with bated breath as the younger one pops the top and reaches around to dribble it onto the fingers of his other hand. Magnus’s newly freed hand clenches frantically at the pressed fabric of Alec’s shirt, wrinkling with the twisting of his fingers. In a desperate bid to silence his moans, Magnus clenches at all that soft hair and drags Alec into another kiss.

Alec reciprocates beautifully, still slightly clumsy with his tongue, but making up for it with sheer determination. With a clattering of glass Alec drops the bottle and reaches up to cradle Magnus’s jaw. The slide of Alec’s finger into his body makes both of them moan, even as Alec pulls back to start kissing down his throat. His unoccupied hand drops to Magnus’s thigh.

“Cling to me, Magnus,” Alec says, pulling down the silk boxers and the pants that obstruct his hands.

Both of them fall around Magnus’s feet, and the warlock obligingly magics his boot laces undone so he can get them off. He was now naked in front of his shadow hunter, but Alec himself was frustratingly enough still fully done up, bow tie and all.

 _This will not do,_ Magnus thinks, but a sharp spike of pain just below the skin of his jaw jerks him back to what Alec was doing to his neck.

Magnus pulls sharply at Alec’ hair, dragging him back from his neck. “What the hell Alec?!” he yelps. “You bit me!”

Alec grins dopily, looking strangely high. “Yeah, you have my teeth on you,” he groans, eyes fastening on the indents of teeth high up on Magnus’s neck.

The nerve of the boy stuns Magnus, his mouth opens on forgotten words. The rubbing of a second finger against his entrance causes the down worlder to bite off a swear word. It slips inside, and Alec presses deep and curls his fingers just a little to brush against the spot that makes Magnus’s head fall with a thump against the door.

“Fuuuck,” Magnus groans, hips jerking back onto those teasing fingers.

 _What happened to his shy, closeted shadow hunter?_ Magnus thinks, half hysterically. His own fingers tighten in Alec’s hair, which makes the Nephilim grunt and lean in for a brief, teeth filled kiss. He couldn’t really complain though, not with the way his dick is enthusiastically saluting Alec’s actions. 

“Let me see all of you,” Alec murmurs against his lips. “Drop the glamour.”

For a moment Magnus doesn’t understand what he’s saying, which seems to be a constant state around this baffling boy. But then he remembers that his eyes are still the dark brown of his human guise, not the cat eyes he’d been born with. For a moment he almost refuses, he’s revealing his soft underbelly to a lover who will soon be bonded by runes to another. In the end, he lets the magic drain from his eyes, revealing the golden hue he’d hidden from mortals for so long. He’s now truly bare before Alec in a way he hasn’t been in a hundred years.

 _And look how well that turned out,_ Magnus thinks sardonically. _A broken heart and not much else._

“Mhmm,” Alec hums, at once sliding a third slippery finger into Magnus and reaching his other hand up to slide carefully under the skin of Magnus’s golden cat eyes. 

“Careful,” Magnus warns, mildly distracted by the way the three fingers flexed in his ass. He clenches experimentally around the fingers, but Alec’s done a good job and it only aches a little.

Alec laughs. “Of your butt or your makeup,” he teases, bringing his hand away from his face and rubbing the slightest trace of sparkly glitter between the tips of his fingers. At the same time, he presses at Magnus’s prostate and twists his fingers.

“Fucking b-both!” Magnus’s voice catches, and breaks embarrassingly, but Alec doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he’s fumbling at his own belt, pushing open the button and zipper of his pants to pull his own dick out of his underwear. Magnus is instantly distracted from his own burning desire to admire the long, heavy erection that perfectly matches the rest of him. _Gimme,_ Magnus thinks desperately.

“How do you smell so good,” Alec moans between breaths as he sets his mouth against Magnus’s throat again, desperately sucking large bruises into the meat of Magnus’s shoulder.

Magnus laughs breathlessly, pulling Alec more firmly against him to grind their straining dicks firmly together. _My hair is a disgrace_ , he thinks, feeling the damp strand of his carefully arranged hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. At least they match, since Alec’s hair currently looked delightfully finger fucked.

“Just put it in me,” Magnus gasps, reaching down to grab both their dicks.

“Okay,” Alec moans, slipping all three of his fingers from Magnus’s body. “Just, put your legs around my waist, yeah like that,” he says approvingly, somehow taking on Magnus’s not insignificant weight and hiking the warlock’s body up. Now it’s Magnus who’s looking down onto Alec’s face. The warlock can’t help but kiss that full lower lip, and scatter kisses over flushed cheeks and Alec’s damp forehead. Both of his arms are wrapped around Alec’s shoulders, and Alec’s hands and clamped around his waist.

They both laugh when Magnus has to obligingly reach back to guide Alec’s cock to his entrance after a few false starts. But the laughter cuts off as Alec sinks slowly into Magnus’s tight heat. Their heads press together, and then Alec is fully seated in Magnus’s body.

“Move, Alec,” Magnus rasps, clenching around the heavy flesh inside himself.

That’s all it takes and Alec pulls out and pushes in with stuttering hips, not quite knowing how to makes the right rhythm. Magnus pants, doing what he can to push and pull with Alec’s body. Another sharp sting at his collarbones makes Magnus grunt, even as Alec sucks softly in apology. The nephilim is an unrepentant biter, and Magnus would be covered in bruises before they were done, not counting the way his hips, ass and thighs will ache.

Alec’s hands are on his ass, clenching and pulling, with a sudden hitch, he pulls Magnus up higher and slides his fingers over the stretched skin where his cock disappears inside Magnus. “You feel so good, Magnus,” he says. “How can I give this up? How?” this he says almost too quietly to hear, but Magnus’s catches it. He shudders, turned his head to the side and clamping shut his cat eyes, as if he can forget Alec’s soft words. Of course this was only a stolen moment before Alec goes back to his beautiful, nephilim fiancée.  

“I’m close, Magnus,” Alec groans. “Touch yourself, please.” He pulls back from his quest to mark Magnus’s collarbones for a deep, filthy kiss.

His hand drops from Alec’s shoulder, and grips firmly at his erection, heavy and leaking pearly fluid from the tip. It will only take a few strokes before Magnus comes, so he tightens his hand in Alec’s hair and pulls Alec away from Magnus’s mouth.

“Come for me, Alec,” Magnus orders, stroking himself once, then twice and coming with a ripple as Alec shouts and pushes deep one last time. Magnus carefully catches all his come in his fist so it won’t ruin Alec’s shirt, but he can feel both of Alec’s hands flex on his ass, ten points of perfect pressure as they dimple his skin. Magnus almost thinks he can feel the jerk of Alec’s cock, and the come inside him.

It’s takes a few moments before Alec unclenches his hands, and carefully pulls his cock out. Magnus lets his legs relax from around Alec’s hips, and slide them down to the floor. His knees wobble, unable to quite hold his weight, but Alec’s hands hold him up by his hips.

Magnus looks up at Alec, poised to say anything to break the sudden silence, but Alec’s face is drawn with emotions almost too heavy to bear. With just a few steps, Alec’s hands leave his waist, and he’s turning away from Magnus, tucking himself away, closing himself off.

“Alec… Alexander,” Magnus murmurs, his golden eyes are damp. “Alexander, please.”

Alec gives a shout, half rage, half despair and shoves at the corner of his desk. With a crash, pens and paper flutter to the floor and an inkwell shatters. Magnus is leaning back against the door, knees still weak with orgasm and come sliding down his thighs. Alec’s breathing heavily, pants still unbuttoned and shirt untucked. They stand there like that for a few solitary moments, and then Alec puts himself to rights. The jacket is the last thing he picks up and he turns to face Magnus, eyes only for the floor.

“Won’t you even look at me?” Magnus’s voice is as sharp as the shattered glass, and his heart is the ink of the broken well, seeping into the cracks of the floor. Alec shakes his head, eyes fixed on the floor, golden jacket dangling from his white knuckled hand. He looks almost completely put together, with only the shoulder of his shirt still wrinkled from where Magnus had grabbed it. The jacket will cover it, but when Alec is up on the altar, he’ll still have Magnus’s imprint on his clothes. It’s almost enough.

“Move, Magnus,” Alec begs, his voice husky and raw. “I have to go, it’s for my family.” He looks up from the floor into Magnus’s face, and there are tears building in his eyes.

It’s too much, too terrible a notion to make this beautiful, terrible boy cry. With the will of a man in love, Magnus steps away from the door. He doesn’t look as Alec flees from the room, lips still bruised from their kisses, and hair a mess from Magnus’s hands.

The door slams shut.

Only a few nights ago with the heat of Alexander’s thigh a tantalizing presence against Magnus’s own, Magnus had thought that maybe Alexander Lightwood would not break his heart. The laugh that bubbles from his throat is bitter with regret, he should know better than to think anyone would love him enough to stay.

He carefully picks up his scattered clothes, but can’t bring himself to put them on. Instead, he banishes them to his apartment and summons a black button up with a high collar to better hide Alec’s marks. He casts the glamour again, hiding his eyes. Once he’s dressed, he glances at the mess they made in front of the door, their come still on the floor and the mess Alec had made of his desk. For a single vindictive moment Alec contemplates leaving it there for Alec to come back to. But he shakes his head and with a snap, everything rearranges itself, the shattered inkwell going into the trash. He has to grab tissues and soak up the liquid, but once he’s done it’s like they were never there at all.

Magnus turns to leave, to abandon this entire affair for good but he hesitates for just a moment at Alec’s desk. It’s a picture frame of Alec, Isabelle and that boy Joseph or something, but they’re all laughing and smiling and several years’ younger.

 _It’s not right,_ is the only thought circling in Magnus head. That this vibrant boy will be replaced by a man married only for duty and not for love. The clatter of the photograph on the desk is loud in the suddenly empty room as the door slams shut behind Magnus.

He rushes through the Institute. _Please, don’t be too late_ , he begs. The door to the chapel is open, Magnus walks through them, his eyes only for Alec on the altar. The girl is holding the stylus, ready to apply the marriage rune. Maryse is speaking, but Magnus only gives her the barest of glances. He only has eyes for Alec.

With a flick of his fingers in Maryse’s face, Magnus says, “Maryse, this is between me and your son. I’ll leave if he asks me to.”

Alec’s eyes are wide, and everyone around them are murmuring in hushed whispers. This was it, one last bid, one final request. He’s breathless and aching with fear.

 _What are you going to do Alexander?_ Magnus thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at: sleipnirismybaby.tumblr.com  
> Come and say hi if you like!


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